


The Quiet Sound of Losing Faith

by themidnightrhapsody



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Complete, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themidnightrhapsody/pseuds/themidnightrhapsody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-movie; Sometimes she knows exactly why Linda left her husband, but she can't fathom why she left her daughter. Irene tries so hard to fix what's been broken, but she can't do it alone, and no one's helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet Sound of Losing Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Original notes from FFN: Okay. Keep in mind that I've never read Return to Labyrinth, and I never will, so I'm basing this entire thing off the film. I'm aware that most people are in this fandom because they want to see Sarah and Jareth get their happy ending (so do I!). I'm also aware that lots of people aren't fond of Irene. But I…actually liked her. I know we only saw her for like a minute, but even then you could tell she was trying. I know what it's like to have a stepmom who defies expectations, and it sucks. But I'm in a sort of unique position; I've been in Sarah's position, and I know what it's like to mother kids who aren't yours. So this is a tribute to all the stepmothers out there who aren't wicked, and to everyone who's ever struggled to keep their family from breaking.
> 
> A small note: I'm not saying that Sarah and Jareth have formally met at this point, but I wouldn't put it past him to give her subconscious hints long before he revealed himself. And what better way than in a dream?

It's the third time she's thrown up tonight. It's just a stomach bug, and it'll be gone by morning, but Sarah must be miserable in there. You sigh and look at your husband. "Are you going to help her?"

"It's not really my thing," he answers.

You don't understand how helping Sarah isn't his thing. You know he doesn't like vomit – who does? – and he's just a man, but…she's his  _daughter._  Isn't that supposed to mean something? You push yourself out of bed, ignoring the strain on your back – Toby's going to be a healthy baby – and shove your feet into your soft slippers. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Wait, you shouldn't have to-"

"Never mind," you say, and leave him. It's not that you're really upset…okay, yes, you're upset, but only because you're exhausted and you know Sarah probably won't take kindly to you, no matter what you do. You don't hold it against her, but it's hard to be shot down at every step. Maybe the baby will bring you closer together. You were excited to have a sibling at her age.

The door is half-open and Sarah, a slip of a girl on the cusp of womanhood, lies half-curled on the floor, shivering. As softly and gently as possible, you say, "Sarah, you need to get in bed. Lying on the floor won't help you get better."

"I can't," she whispers. "Please, I can't."

You're not sure if she's aware of your presence, or if she's really talking to you, but you squat down and put your hand on her forehead. "You're burning up. Come on, I'll help you to bed and get something for your fever."

You'd rather go to bed yourself, but Robert would probably leave her on the floor, reasoning that she's more comfortable like that, and closer to the toilet anyway.

"It hurts," she whines.

"I know it hurts. I'm going to help you, but you need to help me help you. Now, come on, let's get you to bed."

The girl allows you to help her up and support her, but she doesn't seem to understand what to do. Maybe she's a little sicker than you thought. Your legs nearly buckle as she leans on you, but her legs are shaking much more than yours are and it's not like Toby's ready to come out – you wish he'd hurry, but for now, at least you and Sarah won't fall into a heap in the hallway. It's only a short walk anyway.

When she's situated in bed and you're at the door, she says, weakly, "Mom?"

It's almost heartbreaking. Almost. "No, Sarah. It's me, Irene. I'll be right back with some medicine. Just sit tight."

Her only response is a whimper.

As you pass your door, you see Robert, still buried in that old book, and you have to calm yourself. How can he just lie there when his daughter's crying in the next room? This isn't your responsibility. You're happy and willing to help her, but he should be in there. He should notice.

They told you not to marry him, but you didn't listen. Linda was flighty, you reasoned, and Robert was lonely; he was a good man, and that poor daughter of his…

You were right. But they were right, too. Linda was flighty, and Robert is a good man. But he doesn't engage – whether it's the loneliness, or his nature, he doesn't engage. He needs to, but he doesn't.

The walk from the medicine cabinet to the bathroom seems to take forever.

Taking the water cup and filling it, you make your way back to her room and say, "Come on, sit up for a second. The Tylenol will help your fever."

With your help, she downs the pills, and you leave the water on her nightstand for later, and wonder how it came to this. Before Robert, you were beautiful and fabulous. Some of your dates didn't like your stiff manners, but you didn't like their attitudes. You danced and attended operas and – family life is worth giving up all of that glamor, but you never considered how…mundane your life would be.

You pause at the door when Sarah begins to speak.

"I don't understand," she says, barely audible. "She's so nice to me. She took Dad away, he won't even look at me anymore because he thinks she's more important and I try so hard to hate her, but I can't. Jareth, I don't understand. I'm so tired. I want my mom. Make Irene be mean so I can have my mom again."

Jareth, you decide, must be a friend from school. It's good to know that Sarah's not completely antisocial; she should be out more. She deserves to be out more. She's a good kid, but she's so reserved…

You're tired, too.

"She's okay, for now," you tell him, sliding into bed again. "I gave her some medicine and put her to bed. Robert, she…"

You should wait until you're not so tired, but you suspect that day won't come until Toby's old enough to go to school. You watched your mother carry Karen to term; you've seen what it does to a woman. "She thinks you don't think she's important."

"Of course I think she's important," he replies,  _finally_  looking away from his book.

"She doesn't think so," you snap. You don't mean to be so short with him, but really.

"Irene, I'm her father. I care about her, and she knows that. She's sick; of course she's going to say things that don't make sense."

You feel like hitting him, just a little, but you have more self-control than that, even with pregnancy hormones running rampant through your body. "Is it all that simple to you? Sarah's hurting, even physically, and you won't even get out of bed! Robert, you need to  _engage!_  I know Sarah looks just like Linda, but that doesn't mean you can just ignore her. She acts out because she thinks I've stolen you from her. Don't make it true. Toby needs a dad, not just a father, and Sarah needs a mother figure in her life, but I can't give that to her without your help."

You don't want to replace Linda. You would if you could, but Linda's too important to both Sarah _and_  Robert to just ignore. So you'll have to just be the best mother you can possibly be, and hope things work out between you.

"I don't know what to tell you." He picks up his book again. "Linda said the same thing-"

"Then maybe you should take a look at it, since we're practically polar opposites," you say, maybe more nastily than you should.

"I'm doing the best I can. I work, I provide for you and Sarah, I take you out – what else do you want from me?"

There are a lot of things you want to say. You want him to be an active father and husband. You want him to be the charming man you married. You want him to talk to his daughter about what happened. You want him to assure her that it's not her fault, and he loves her. You want him to tell you, frankly and honestly, that he loves you and Toby no matter what.

But there's a pattering of feet in the hallway and the empty retching sound of someone who has already lost everything in her stomach. So you ask, "Are you going to help her?"

"She's probably better off in there anyway, honey. She's closer to the toilet, and she'll need to be able to reach it until she stops throwing up."

How predictable. He says he cares, but he won't show it. You know he cares. You know he loves her and he loves you. You sometimes wish you loved him a little less. You sigh, wondering once again about Linda, heave your legs over the side of the bed, and slip your feet into your soft slippers. Looks like it's up to you.

"Never mind," you say.


End file.
